Roses
by hagiga
Summary: Valentines Day piece.


It's been a bad day. A long, agonizingly slow, bad day.

Every Valentine's day, the hospital's staff get each other gifts, flowers, notes and more. A sort of Valentine's Day secret Santa. Her friend Tina got a giant bouquet, Liam got an expensive chocolate box, even the awkward and snobby Stella from I.T. got a gift.

And there was Molly, packing her bag in the locker room as her friends did nothing but, all of them doting and giggling between each other about the gifts they received and the plans they have for tonight.

"Don't be upset Molly," Tina said "it's probably just because when we were assigned the secret Valentine you were engaged to Tom and they assumed you won't need a gift."

_Great, Tina… _Molly thought. _Thank you for reminding me about that break up… _

Molly tossed her empty lunch box into her bag, swung it over her shoulder, and shoved her way through the crowded locker room and into the empty and cold hallways of St. Bart's hospital…

* * *

She lowered her umbrella and shook the raindrops off of it, searching for her keys in her bag.

_Crap! _She thought to herself, hating the idea of climbing over a window to her apartment…

She threw her head back in defeat, and let a few chilly droplets of rain stroke her face, breathing in a the cool London air, trying to calm herself down.

She tried to push the handle of her door down, even though she was certain it was locked, but to her surprise, the handle swiftly open and the door creaked to greet her.

She would have been worried, but the satisfaction knowing she would not have to do any climbing today was too powerful.

She sighed, almost moaned, heavily as she stumbled into her home, dropping the bag loosely to the floor, pulling her hair tie out of her hair to ruffle and massage her scalp.

She was taking off her coat when she stepped on something strange, something smooth, covering her carpet. But in the darkness of her flat, she couldn't see, and so she went to the nearest lamp and…

Roses, upon roses. Red roses. Red petals scattered all over the floor. Roses in vases on her kitchen table, by the television, on her window panes. Roses decorating her couch, her chairs. Rich, deep red color pooling anywhere she looked.

A figure walked through the kitchen and into her living room, and there stood Sherlock Holmes looking a bit dumbfounded, his hair a bit messier, his sleeves rolled up and green leaves stuck to his shirt, a pair of scissors in one hand and a single white rose in the other.

"Uhhh…" He said.

Her jaw hung loose, and then he turned his back to her and went back to the kitchen.

She quickly followed him only to find him surrounded by piles of rose leaves and stems, tearing out a few leaves from the white rose's stem and using the scissors to cut the flower to fit into a simple glass vase.

He then took the piece and walked toward Molly, grabbing her hand and dragging her back to her living room. He place her by the door she stood by just minutes ago, and without tearing his eyes from her, walked back and placed the single white rose in the middle of all of the red flowers.

"What's that?" She motioned to the rose.

"Antoine Rivoire." He responded, fidgeting with the side of his pants.

"No, I meant," Molly hesitated "What is it for?"

Sherlock shifted on his feet.

"For the time you saved me…"

She sighed, wanting to say something along the lines _you didn't have to _but something else was on her mind.

"And these?" She pointed at the nearly hundred red roses scattered across her apartment.

"These," he took two steps in her direction, "are for every single time you've saved me after that…"

Her eyebrows merged together in confusion.

He picked up a single red rose and came closer to her, when he stood about two feet away from her, he whispered: "You're in my mind palace…" fiddling with the flower in his hands "I guess it's just my mind using your image as a guide because you've saved me and my friends once, but you're there… " he tapped the side of his head "whenever I need you."

Sherlock extended the rose to her "So thank you." He said, and Molly took it with shivering hands, bit her lower lip to hold back the tears and threw herself towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her nose to his pulse and relished the feeling of how his arms, though awkwardly, wrapped around her waist and picked her up slightly.

With a few tears in her eyes, she pulled her head back to look at him and observe his slight but proud smile. She laughed breathlessly and stroked the back of his head, relishing in the softness of his curls. In response she received a pair or plush lips pressed to her brow, whispering warmly and softly against her skin "Happy Valentine's Day, Molly Hooper…"


End file.
